


Tryin' to Reason with Hurricane Season

by Gort



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Best Friends, Competitive charades, F/M, Florida Keys, Hurricanes, Margaritas, Proposal jitters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28206414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: No SHIELD AU. It's hurricane season and the incoming storm is wreaking havoc on Fitz's plans. Luckily, Hunter and Bobbi know just how to help.(Another epilogue to Love, Crabs, and Other Disasters.)
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Tryin' to Reason with Hurricane Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunalso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/gifts).



> If you haven't' read the original fic, here's all you need to know: Hunter's a bartender in the Florida Keys, Bobbi's ex-FBI, and they're in love <3

It was another beautiful day in paradise.

Hunter stared out the window at the waves crashing onto the beach, scrubbing a towel over his freshly washed hair. The tide was in, and higher than usual. Sunrise this morning had been spectacular, with a flash of orange near the horizon that meant it was time to start listening to the weather reports.

Bobbi’s first hurricane season had been quiet so far, but it was still early. He’d need to double his normal stockpile and haul it over to Phil’s, just in case. Knowing Bob, she’d be too busy fussing over the turtles to think about herself until after the semi-annual run on bottled water.

A knock at the front door startled him out of his reverie and Hunter snagged a crumpled shirt from the back of the couch on his way to answer it.

“You’ve got to help me,” Fitz blurted the moment Hunter opened the door.

Hunter froze for a second, then did a quick head to toe scan. No blood. “What’s wrong?”

Fitz ran a hand through his hair, his curls already a mess from the humidity, and glanced over his shoulder. “It’s Jemma.”

“Is she hurt?” Hunter asked, buttoning his shirt.

“What?” Fitz asked distractedly. “Oh, no, she’s just in the shower. I don’t have long.”

Hunter opened his mouth and closed it again before stepping back and waving Fitz into the house. He’d suss out what his friend was talking about eventually. Sometimes it just took a while to catch up.

“You know, the shower at Palmetto Cottage is plenty big enough for two,” Hunter said, turning on the electric kettle.

Fitz huffed out an impatient breath. “So you’ve said a dozen times already. I have to get back before she notices I’m gone. I mucked up everything and I can’t-”

“Slow down,” Hunter interrupted, hunting up two clean mugs. He’d gotten a wee bit distracted last night and the dishes were still piled in the sink. “I’ll make some tea.”

Slumping into a kitchen chair, Fitz let out a groan. “I don’t want tea.”

“What?” Hunter asked, startled. He planted his hands on his hips. “Alright, what the hell is going on?”

“Look,” Fitz said, his eyes wide and earnest. He held out a small box, his fingers trembling, and opened the lid. Inside was a small, beautifully cut diamond set in a filigreed silver band.

“I love you, mate, but I’m going to have to run this by Bob first.”

Fitz gave him a withering look. “It’s for Jemma.”

“Of course it’s for Jemma,” Hunter said, pleased to note that at least Fitz had stopped shaking. He dropped two tea bags into the mugs. “So why are you showing it to me?”

“Because-” Fitz snapped the box shut, his cheeks turning pink. “I was going to ask her last night, but that game of charades got a little competitive and after we left I, uh, didn’t have a chance.”

“Yeah, Bob likes to win, too,” Hunter chuckled. It’d been a stroke of genius to put their girlfriends on the same team, and he’d been well compensated for his loss afterward. Hence the neglected dishes. He squirted soap over the lot and turned on the water to fill the sink. “Then just ask her today.”

“That was the plan, but I burned the pancakes, and we didn’t have any jam, and Jemma’s got an itinerary longer than my arm and…”

Hunter held up a hand. “You’re not putting on a production of the Scottish Play. Just ask her.”

“This is important! I want it to be perfect.” Fitz’s shoulders slumped. “Or, well, at least romantic. Not with a side of dry, burnt pancakes.”

“I’m still unclear about my involvement in this.”

“I need a plan,” Fitz said resolutely.

The kettle shut off and Hunter filled the waiting mugs. He put one in front of Fitz and set the other by the sink, turning off the water. “Alright. What have you got so far?”

“A string of failures,” Fitz groaned. “You’re good at this, Hunter, come on, I need your help.”

Hunter almost spilled the milk he was adding to his mug. “I’m sorry, what am I good at?”

“Romantic stuff!” Fitz exclaimed. “You met Bobbi at the bloody airport, and she moved a thousand miles for you. I need something brilliant. What’s your plan?”

“Until I convince Mack to add _‘Anything, Anything’_ to the jukebox, there’s no plan.”

Fitz stared at him like a deer in headlights. “Music? I didn’t even think about music.” He swayed in his chair, his face pale.

“Fitz!” Hunter barked, drawing his friend’s attention. “It’s a joke. Jemma’s not expecting an orchestra, or any kind of choreographed entertainment before you start worrying about that. All you have to do is make it special for the two of you.”

“Right,” Fitz said, his brows drawing together. “But how?” His tone had an edge of desperation and Hunter sighed. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky with Bobbi, but Fitz still thought he had some kind of magical insight into women. Hunter was tempted to clue Jemma in since she’d make quick work of planning her own proposal, but Fitz obviously wanted to surprise her. That left Bob out, too, since she and Jemma had grown thick as thieves lately. He and Fitz would have to muddle through on their own.

“Well, what’s on your itinerary?” Hunter asked

“Touring the turtle rescue with Bobbi, visiting the Hemingway Museum, and then dinner at Mack’s.”

“Perfect. Skip Mack’s and make reservations at some fancy place over on Key West.”

“But what should I say when she asks why?”

“I don’t know, you saw a cockroach?”

Fitz made a face. “So she’s worried about horrible insects the whole time we’re here? That’s a terrible idea.”

Hunter rolled his eyes and plunged his hands into the soapy water. “Fine. Then come up with something on your own.”

“Dinner,” Fitz mused, standing up with his tea. He took a sip and his eyes lit up. “Oh, this is the good stuff.” He snagged Hunter’s untouched mug. “Sorry, but I’ve been gone too long, and this is the best reason for it. Ta.” He headed for the front door, leaving Hunter with a pile of dirty dishes and no tea.

“You’re welcome!” Hunter called after his friend, then shook his head. This was going to be a disaster.

* * *

“Bobbi!” Jemma exclaimed.

Jemma cornered her before she could make it to the bar, and Bobbi flashed Hunter an apologetic smile. He just smiled back, his dimple showing, and waggled an empty margarita glass questioningly. She dipped her chin and refocused on Jemma.

“Jemma?”

“Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“Sure.” Given that Jemma was already dragging her out of Mack’s Place, Bobbi figured agreement was the quickest way to figure out what was going on.

The street outside was quiet, though voices carried from inside. Bobbi’s stomach grumbled, and she silently apologized to it for having to wait a few more minutes. She’d worked later than usual today and hadn’t even stopped to change out of her ranger uniform. The storm brewing in the Gulf was gaining strength, and they had quite a few turtle patients who’d be riding it out if it headed this way. At some point, she’d have to ask Hunter what their hurricane plan was. After a margarita.

Jemma fidgeted nervously, her hands fluttering around her throat. “I think…well, Fitz has been out of sorts all day, and I was just wondering if Hunter said anything to you?”

“About Fitz?” Bobbi asked, perplexed. “Um, no?”

“Oh dear,” Jemma sighed. “I’m worried they had a falling out. Do you think it was the game of charades? Fitz can be a little competitive, maybe he and Hunter-”

“Hunter was fine last night,” Bobbi interrupted. “And when I left this morning.” Very fine, and very naked, one of her favorite Hunter flavors.

Jemma’s shoulders slumped. “Are you sure?” she said, her voice small.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Jemma said, glancing toward the bar. “It’s just that Fitz didn’t want to come back here for dinner tonight. He’d even made reservations at some place on Key West! It seemed so odd, considering how excited he’s been about this vacation.”

“He didn’t say why?”

“When I asked, he just said he wanted to spend time with me, which is silly. We spent all day together, and he doesn’t get to see Hunter that often.”

“Huh,” Bobbi said, slipping her arm through Jemma’s and steering her back into Mack’s. “Well, I’ll see what Hunter says, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry about this. I-” Jemma paused as Fitz, who’d been leaning over the bar and gesticulating wildly at Hunter, leaped back like he’d been scalded and scurried out onto the patio. “See?” she hissed.

“I saw,” Bobbi murmured. “How about I use some of my rusty interrogation skills to see if I can get to the bottom of this?”

“Thank you,” Jemma said gratefully.

Bobbi patted her arm. “No problem.”

Jemma waved at Hunter and went to join Fitz on the patio as Bobbi made her way to the bar, avoiding the floorboard always on a mission to trip her, and finally slid onto an empty stool in front of her boyfriend.

“Hello, love,” Hunter said, leaning over for a kiss before setting a margarita in front of her. “How are the turtles?”

“Battened down,” Bobbi sighed, happy to get the weight off her knee. She grimaced, rubbing it, and Hunter frowned.

“Knee?” he asked. 

“It’s fine,” she said, the words popping out automatically.

“Bob.” He gave her a fond look.

“I might need a massage tonight,” she admitted. Hunter had excellent hands, and he never complained when she asked him to rub her knee, but she hated to be greedy.

“And I’m happy to give one.” He waggled his eyebrows. “As long as you wear those shorts.”

She laughed, sipping her drink, and the last of the stress from her day slipped off her shoulders. Coming home meant something entirely different since she’d moved to Crab Key. It was no longer a place for her to crash for a few hours, shower, and repeat. Now, she looked forward to the days she could sleep in, waking up to the sound of the waves with Hunter beside her.

Her unplanned leap into the unknown had turned out to be even better than she’d imagined, and Jemma and Fitz were a part of this new family she’d become a part of. Whatever Hunter and Fitz were arguing about, their friendship was too important to let it fester.

“How was your day?” she asked, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingertips. “Did you get to spend some time with Fitz and Jemma?” 

“A little.” Hunter’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Everything okay?”

Hunter’s eyes darted toward the patio just before his face went inscrutably blank. “Yep. Do you want crab cakes for dinner? Mack’s whipping up a fresh batch.”

Bobbi narrowed her eyes. Something was definitely going on, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. 

* * *

“Look,” Hunter said, settling his sunglasses on his nose. The breeze was noticeably stronger today, and a few clouds scuttled across the sky overhead. “Bob knows something’s going on.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Fitz asked, dismayed.

“Not yet, but that’s because I thought you were going to ask last night! Didn’t you and Jemma take a moonlight stroll on the beach? I thought that would be plenty romantic.”

“It was!” Fitz threw up his hands. “She can be…ah, very distracting.”

Hunter snorted. “See if you can keep it in your pants for five minutes and ask the girl to marry you before I get in trouble, would you?” He picked up a box on his porch and shoved it in Fitz’s arms, then grabbed the second.

“Well, I would have, but Jemma decided to go lie on the beach while I help you with…whatever this is.” Fitz frowned down at the box in his arms. “What am I helping you with?”

“Hurricane supplies,” Hunter grunted, heading for the golf cart he’d borrowed this morning. “Those are for you and Jemma.”

“Hurricane?” Fitz said, sounding alarmed.

“It’s just a category one right now,” Hunter said. “Looks like it’ll probably stay west of us.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“You’re the one who wanted to visit in August.”

“It’s summer hols, you know that. And things looked fine before we came.”

“You cannot tell me that Jemma Simmons, most prepared woman I’ve ever met, didn’t plan for a possible hurricane during hurricane season.”

Fitz’s brow furrowed. “She did say something about rain when she left.” He squinted at the blue sky overhead. 

“See?” Hunter grinned. “She’s probably got MREs and a water purifier tucked in her bags. You’ll be fine.” He heaved the box into the back of the cart and relieved Fitz of his, stacking it on top. “Now let’s get these over to Phil’s so you can put on your best trunks and head down to the beach to get on one knee.”

Fitz frowned. “I’m not proposing on a public beach.” 

“She’s going to say yes,” Hunter said, sliding behind the wheel.

“You don’t know that!” Fitz protested, taking the passenger seat. “Sure, things are perfect now, but she might think differently about legally binding herself to me for life.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “It’s marriage, Fitz, not a one-way ticket to Mars.”

“I know, but Jemma’s incredible,” Fitz said fervently. “I never dreamed I’d meet someone like her, let alone that we’d end up together, but for some reason she…well, I want to spend the rest of my life right beside her.” He sighed. “Jemma’s just…she’s it for me, you know?”

“I’m starting to pick up on that, yes,” Hunter said dryly, steering the cart down the road toward Phil’s. “Shouldn’t you be saying this to Jemma instead of me?”

“You’re right.”

“Thank you.”

“I should write down what I want to say so I don’t mess it up.”

Groaning, Hunter brought the cart to a halt by the door of Daisy’s shop. Wind chimes tinkled merrily, and the postcard rack was tucked safely inside, where nothing could blow away. “Just do it soon, alright?”

“I’ll do it tonight,” Fitz said decisively.

* * *

“Bob!” Hunter called from the porch.

“You want a beer?” she called back, twisting her hair up in a messy bun. She’s missed dinner again, but now that the turtle sanctuary was ready for the impending storm, she had a couple of free days to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

“Just you,” Hunter said, poking his head inside. “Thought you were coming right out?”

“Sorry.” She crossed the room to brush a kiss across his lips. The colors of the neon green turtle-print button-up he was wearing were abominable, but since she’d given it to him, she couldn’t complain. “I had to corral my hair first.”

He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close, and the drapes billowed around them as the wind picked up. “Ready?”

“It smells like rain,” she said.

“It’s on its way,” he murmured, kissing her more firmly. “Come watch?”

He took her hand and pulled her out onto the deck. The scent of salt air blew in from the sea, and the distant horizon was murky and dark. Out of sight, waves crashed restlessly. Hunter settled into his favorite chaise and tugged her down to sit with him, half sprawled across his lap. She tucked herself against his side, and he absently arranged her leg so he could reach her knee, his hands warm and steady as he began to rub the soreness away.

“What are we watching?” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

In the distance, a crackle of white lit up the sky, and for a moment, the cloud-cover glowed green with electricity. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and Bobbi sucked in a breath.

“That,” he murmured.

“It’s beautiful.”

He hummed in agreement and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for being here to share it with me.”

She poked his side. “Where else would I be?”

“Dunno.” His thumbs dug into her calf, releasing the knot that always formed there, and she sighed quietly. “Pretty much anywhere, if you wanted to be.”

“Well, I don’t.” In the distance, thunder rolled, a faint roar that she felt more than heard, and lightning flashed again.

“You’re happy?” he asked.

Bobbi lifted her head, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” His hand slid up her thigh in a comforting stroke, then moved back to her knee. “No. Nothing’s wrong, Bob. Just checking in, that’s all.”

She relaxed again, curling against him. Whatever was on his mind, it weighed heavily enough for him to need some reassurance. She took her time answering, like her therapist had suggested, giving space to the gravity of the question while Hunter continued to massage her knee.

“It’s nothing like what I imagined, and a thousand times better,” she said quietly. “I’m very happy. Are you?”

His chest rose and fell under her hand while she waited, watching the lightning dance across the sky. “More than I ever thought I could be,” he finally said.

“Good.” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “Now, tell me what’s really going on.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I told Fitz we couldn’t keep a secret for long.”

“A secret?” She propped her chin on his shoulder. “What secret?”

“You have to promise to act surprised,” he admonished.

“Hunter.” She poked him again, this time in a ticklish spot.

“Hey, woman! No dirty tricks.”

“What am I being surprised by?”

Thunder cracked overhead, closer than ever, and Hunter wrapped an arm around her. “Fitz is proposing to Jemma.”

Bobbi straightened up, all teasing forgotten. “Seriously? That’s amazing! When? Where?”

“Tonight, theoretically.”

“Theoretically?”

“He’s got himself tangled up in knots trying to stage the perfect moment.”

“They’re on a tropical vacation! Every moment is perfect.” Wind rustled the nearby trees, and a drop of water hit Bobbi’s leg.

“I tried to tell him that, even offered some suggestions, but apparently Jemma is very distracting.”

“That was why he wanted to have dinner on Key West,” she laughed. “Poor Jemma, she’s convinced you and Fitz got into a fight over that game of charades.”

Hunter snorted. “Please, we knew going in that was a lost cause.”

“Sneaky.” Bobbi kissed his nose. “I like it.”

“I know,” he smirked, and she kissed him again just as a couple more raindrops hit her.

“Storm’s here,” she murmured against his mouth.

“Better get inside,” he rumbled, his hand sliding up to cradle her ass. “Remember, act surprised when they tell you tomorrow.”

“I promise.” She swung her leg off his lap and stood, knee twinging just a little.

“Unless he doesn’t ask. Again,” Hunter said, steering her toward the house with a hand on her lower back. “Then it might be time to stage an intervention.”

* * *

Hunter’s phone chimed with a text just as the lights flickered, and he picked it up. Outside, the rain came down in a steady sheet, casting a gray gloom over the entire island. The gusting wind shook the trees outside, and the surf was a mess of choppy waves.

 _Ready_ , Bobbi’s text said.

He smiled, stuffing his feet into a sturdy pair of boots before venturing out into the weather. The golf cart was parked out front with its ineffectual plastic rain covering, and since everyone had been over at Phil’s all morning, he just had one last stop to make.

 _Getting them now_ , Hunter texted back.

 _Be safe_.

He sent back a heart emoji, plus an umbrella and a crab just for fun, then tucked his phone in his pocket and opened the door, squinting against the downpour.

The power went out again, and this time, it took almost ten seconds for it to come back. The hurricane was just supposed to graze the Keys, but apparently, it was planning to take the electricity down on the way by.

A flurry of panicked messages from Fitz this morning had confirmed that he hadn’t managed to find the perfect moment to propose, and he’d been sure the storm meant an end to his attempts. Bobbi had taken one look at the string of texts and rolled out of bed, already on the phone to Daisy. Whatever she had planned, Hunter’s role had been very clear: deliver Jemma and Fitz.

He’d always been good at taking orders.

Hunter pulled up in front of Palmetto Cottage and beeped the horn of the golf cart a couple of times, trying to gauge the depth of the water sluicing down the road. A couple more hours and they’d all be stuck wherever they landed. Good thing Phil had a generator and Trip always made sure there was beer.

The front door of the cottage opened and Jemma stepped out wearing a pair of wellies. Fitz had a bulging bag under one arm and futilely attempted to wrestle open an umbrella as they dashed to the street. Hunter reached over to pull back the plastic for Jemma as she slid into the passenger seat, while Fitz finally gave up on the umbrella and climbed in behind them.

“Alright?” Hunter asked, turning to eye the overstuffed duffle.

“We weren’t sure how long we’ll be staying at Phil’s,” Fitz explained.

“Usually just until the rain lightens up, or the beer’s gone.” Hunter smiled. “Whichever comes first.”

“Thanks for watching out for Fitz and me,” Jemma said earnestly.

“That’s what friends are for,” Hunter said, nudging the cart back onto the road and puttering along even slower than usual. “Sorry about the rain. You’ve managed to discover the one drawback to living here.”

“It’s just another adventure. And besides,” Jemma said, glancing over her shoulder, “the best part is spending time with you and Bobbi, not the sightseeing. Right, Fitz?”

“What?” Fitz asked distractedly. “Oh, right, yes.”

“Perhaps we could have a rematch!” Jemma said. “It wasn’t entirely fair, the other night, since Bobbi and I got so many easy phrases.” She frowned. “Speaking of, where is Bobbi?”

“She went ahead to help Daisy,” Hunter said, neglecting to say with what. He steered them around a fallen branch in the middle of the road and a particularly fierce gust of wind rattled the cart’s plastic rain cover. It was tempting to try and clue Fitz in on the surprise, but more than likely Jemma would pick up on it before Fitz did.

“How long do you think this will last?” Fitz asked as Daisy’s shop came into view.

“The storm?” Hunter lifted a shoulder. “Should blow through by tomorrow. Might take a couple days for the power to come back.”

“Days?” Fitz said, sounding dismayed.

Hunter parked the cart as close to the front door of Daisy’s as he could and twisted around to look at Fitz. “It’ll be fine,” he said with a wink. “Here, let me help you with that bag.” He slid out from behind the wheel and grabbed the duffle before Fitz could protest, then pulled open the shop door.

Bobbi had been busy.

Hunter smiled at the twinkling fairy lights strung across the ceiling. They trailed down the walls as well, creating a canopy of soft light over a miniature beach scene that he would bet money Daisy had designed. A beautifully groomed patch of sand, complete with potted key lime trees, covered the blue-painted floor. It looked right at home surrounded by the signs, knickknacks, and ocean-themed art covering the walls.

Behind him, he heard Jemma gasp. “Oh, look!” she said, pointing at the ceiling. “It’s Cancer, the crab constellation!”

Fitz stared around at the lights, apparently befuddled, and Hunter cleared his throat to get Fitz’s attention. “Everyone must already be out back,” Hunter said. “I’ll just…wait for you both out there.” He jerked his head at Jemma and Fitz’s eyes widened.

“Oh, we can-” Jemma began.

“No!” Hunter and Fitz said at the same time, stopping Jemma in her tracks.

“Uh, Jemma, can I talk to you for a minute?” Fitz said as Hunter snuck out the back, leaving them alone.

Pulling the door shut, Hunter squinted against the wind as Bobbi leave the shelter of Phil’s garage-turned-tiki-bar. “Watch your step,” he called, eyeing the slick cement and heading in her direction.

He caught up to her in time to see her roll her eyes and let her tug him out of the rain to join the others.

“Glad you made it,” Phil said, smacking Hunter’s shoulder and taking the duffle bag. He let out a startled oof at its weight before setting it aside. “Beer?”

“Please,” Hunter said, linking his fingers with Bobbi’s. “Mack fussing over his generator?”

“Just like always,” Phil said. “Elena said she’ll drag him over later.”

“Well?” Daisy asked eagerly from her perch on a barstool covered in pineapple print fabric. “Did they like it?”

“It was a hit,” Hunter said as Trip popped the top off a Piña-crab-loda and passed it over the bar. “Nice work.”

“Bringing the beach inside was Daisy’s idea,” Bobbi said.

“Hey, the lights were all you,” Daisy said, lifting her beer in acknowledgment.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Trip asked.

“And Trip did a great job moving all that sand,” Daisy added, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, babe.”

Hunter leaned over to brush a kiss across Bobbi’s cheek. “Crab constellation, huh?” he murmured in her ear. “Is that a hint?”

“You know I don’t hint,” she whispered back. “I just thought it was appropriate.”

“Just wanted to be sure.”

She patted his chest. “Thank you.”

“If I was considering it, though…” he trailed off leadingly and watched her smile grow. A faint blush stained her cheeks.

“Surprise me.”

“Here they come!” Daisy announced.

Fitz and Jemma were smiling as they dashed across the patio, hand in hand. Jemma’s cheeks were flushed, and Fitz looked dazed, which Hunter took as a good sign.

“Hello,” Jemma said breathlessly, pushing a strand of damp hair out of her face as they stepped into the shelter of the garage.

“Fitz, Jemma,” Phil said casually, like they were passing by his table at Mack’s. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Maybe,” Trip added, pulling a bottle out from behind the bar. “Some champagne?” 

“Show us the ring!” Daisy called from her seat.

Laughing, Jemma held out her hand, and Daisy’s squeal left Hunter’s ears ringing.

“Cork!” Trip said loudly, and Hunter squeezed Bob’s hand. She squeezed back and Hunter nodded at Trip, who winked before opening the champagne with a loud pop.

Daisy whooped and hugged Fitz. “Congratulations, you two.”

Jemma flung herself at Bobbi and Hunter, attempting to hug them both at the same time. “Thank you,” she said, eyes bright. “It was perfect.”

“It was all Fitz’s idea,” Hunter assured her. “Congratulations, Jemma.”

“A toast!” Daisy said, pressing glasses into any empty hand she could find. “To Jemma and Fitz, who are obviously ready to weather any storm together.”

“Hear, hear,” Phil said, lifting his drink.

“Cheers, mate,” Hunter said, clinking his beer against Fitz’s glass.

“She said yes,” Fitz said in amazement.

“Told you.” Hunter grinned. “Congratulations.” 

Bobbi leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “You’re a good man, Lance Hunter.”

Yeah, this was definitely his own slice of paradise.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to the best beta and friend! This little piece of paradise kept me sane this year and I couldn't help but add a little extra HEA on top. Thanks for being you. <3


End file.
